All's Fair in Love and War
by FireOpal
Summary: “I can’t fight you!” “Why not?” Methos cocked his head to one side. “You’re in your boxers!” DMM, fluff, strange behaviour and Methosianess. Reference to 'the deed'.


**Disclaimer** – As always, does not belong to me, any of it.

**Summary** - "I can't fight you!" "Why not?" Methos cocked his head to one side. "You're in your boxers!"

**Notes** – That damnable Physics lesson again (see 'Good Old-Fashioned Lover-Boy'), saw me literally acting this out whilst my teacher tried to help the class revise electricity. Needless to say it must've been quite hard with me and Katy sat on the front row practically screaming with laughter as I breathlessly sketched this idea out. Such good times…  
Dedicated to my poor Physics teacher, Mr Newlands. :D He's a dude really.

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**All's Fair in Love and War**

Even as he felt the Presence buzz, a mix of irritating alertness and pleasant recognition at his senses, he continued his series of moves. His limbs flowed fluidly through the age-old patterns. Whoever it was, it wouldn't be a problem. Even if it wasn't who he automatically assumed, then he was armed and limber, not even beginning to feel winded by the work-out. He flatly ignored his gut that was smugly informing him of the eyes watching him from the door.

"Are you going to stand there all day Macleod?" he asked eventually in a light tone, his eyes closed in relaxed concentration.

"It's **my** dojo," Duncan replied, his tone amused. Methos still didn't open his eyes, his body needing no prompting as to the next move.

"You could always join me," he offered, slowing and turning, eyes open at last to face the other Immortal.

"I didn't want to interrupt," Duncan explained, his voice recovering from the humour of just before to become serious, understanding, and even a little captivated. Inwardly, Methos understood, knowing that the delight of watching a fellow-enthusiast work was almost like watching nature at work, and that to interrupt a mediation could be more than a little irritating.

"No problem." He quirked his lips in a grin, his eyes warm. "I hope you don't mind – you just have a little more room than me to move in."

"You should get yourself a bigger apartment," Macleod commented, hands in his pockets, though his eyes and face were grinning. "I'll let it go this time, as long as you spar with me."

Methos grinned enthusiastically. "Need you ask?"

Duncan matched the grin, pulling out his katana and shrugging off his long jacket. His hair was short again, and he seemed younger, more vulnerable without the long brunet mane, but Methos privately thought it suited him. A lot of things had changed in the past few years.

His eyebrows rising as the coat became a pool of cloth on the floor, he reached for the buttons on his cotton shirt and loosed them quickly and easily, throwing the simple garment aside casually.

Duncan just looked at him.

"What was that for?"

Methos shrugged, feeling playful. "It makes about as much sense as you shedding your coat. Do you expect every Immortal you meet to have your impeccable dress sense and honour?"

"It's just easier," Duncan argued lightly, moving forwards.

"Ah, but you learn to do things the easy way, and one day someone will come along and attack you, coat and all," Methos warned, springing forwards, and nearly managing to take the Highlander by surprise.

They sparred playfully for a moment, each dipping forwards and dodging backwards as they settled into the movements, but this was a spar between the world's oldest man and one of the finest swordsmen, so it could never stay simple for long.

A few moments later, a flick of Methos' blade across Duncan's turned back sliced neatly through the cloth of the Highlander's shirt. Grinning, the Old Man fell back, resting the tip of his blade lightly on the dojo floor as Duncan turned. With an irritated glare at the older Immortal, he shrugged off the tattered garment and threw it to the side.

"That was one of my best shirts!" he complained, falling into a ready stance.

Methos shrugged. "Maybe we should've undressed completely before starting. The Romans did it all the time."

"I'm not going to turn up the central heating so that we can re-enact ancient history," Macleod returned, his tone teasing.

"Touché," Methos replied faux-admiringly, saluting crisply with his blade. Then Macleod darted forwards, and with a whirl of steel, they were fighting again.

Another few minutes passed before they had to pause again. This time it was Methos staring aghast at his diced trousers. Duncan couldn't restrain a grin.

"I **liked** these!" he complained, pulling at the loose material to inspect the damage. "They're ruined!"

"Oh well," the Highlander replied easily. "All's fair in love and war."

Methos glanced up at him, a smirk lingering dangerously on his face. Then, with a complete lack of modesty, he pulled off the ruined trousers and tossed them to the side, just as Duncan had done previously with his shirt. Deliberately, he positioned his feet lightly on the floor, and resumed his fighters-stance. Still smirking, he raised his hand and beckoned.

"I can't fight you!"

"Why not?" Methos cocked his head to one side.

"You're in your boxers!"

Methos deliberately looked down at himself. The Highlander watched as he inspected himself, noticing the way his smooth white skin was almost flawless and his body perfectly toned underneath his usual baggy jumpers.

"Why, yes, I think I am," he replied calmly.

"I can't fight a man in his boxers!" Macleod protested, restraining his laughter.

"And if he fights you?" Methos asked, launching himself forwards and catching the unsuspecting Immortal a nick on his collar bone – close enough to his neck to be worrying, yet infinitely safe.

"No fair," Duncan complained, falling back.

"'All's fair in love and war'," the grinning, boxer-clad Immortal repeated. For a second, he glanced across to the door, and what he saw there made him burst out laughing.

Joe was watching them interact, looking torn between laughter, confusion, and embarrassment. Before the Immortals could react however, he had turned and left, his cane tapping down the corridor as Methos howled.

After a minute, Duncan joined in, unable to restrain his laughter.

"I-I think," Methos gasped, doubled up, "I think –"

"I don't want to know what he thinks," Duncan replied, breathless. They shared a look, and burst out laughing again.

"Oh, you never know," Methos managed eventually. "It could be interesting. Educational, even."

"I've been educated already – Watchers' have dirty minds," Duncan retorted.

"Why thank you," the Old Man grinned. Duncan stuck his tongue out in a decidedly infantile gesture.

In retaliation, Methos leant forwards and swiftly slashed the Highlander's trousers. Gasping, his face still bright with laughter, Duncan mock-glared at the Oldest Immortal.

"Act your age," he reprimanded.

"Like you were?" Methos replied. "Besides, now it's even," he paused. "Wait, no – you've still got your shoes and socks on."

Duncan rolled his eyes and quickly pulled off the dark, torn garment, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks.

"Happy now?"

"Oh yes," Methos all but purred. Duncan raised one eyebrow, before raising his katana to block Methos' overhand thrust. "Infinitely happy."

"And why would that be, oh wise one?" he tossed back, making Methos duck a throat-high swipe.

"Because now I can do this," Methos whispered back, dodging around the back of the Highlander to drop the words in his ear. Then, gently, he pressed his lips to the other Immortal's neck.

Duncan froze. Methos moved backwards, his eyes turning shadowy as his mask fell back into place.

The Highlander turned, his sword held loosely at his side as he fixed the other Immortal with his gaze – a mix of confusion and vulnerability that touched the older man every time.

"What was that for?" he asked in a low tone. Methos shrugged almost casually.

"What do you think?"

There was another pause.

"You feel, that way, about me?" Duncan asked haltingly.

Methos fought the urge to look away, but there was a flicker in his eyes as he tried to decide whether or not to back down. If he did, he could pretend it was a silly, spur of the moment action. They'd never talk about it again. It all depended on whether or not he wanted to jump off that cliff or not.

"Yes," he replied eventually.

Duncan swallowed. "That's good then…"

Methos raised one eyebrow. "You'd rather I kiss you because I'm attracted to you than because I'm not?"

"Yes," Duncan replied, his lips nervously twitching into a grin. "Because then I can do this."

He moved forwards and pressed his lips to the other mans' gently, briefly.

"Yes," Methos answered as they pulled back. "I can see where that would be a benefit…"

Duncan grinned, more sure of himself now the Old Man was using that sarcastic tone.

"You know," he continued, "I can think of another benefit. You, me…" he glanced down suggestively at Duncan's bare chest. "We've done the most annoying bit already."

"Definitely a benefit," Duncan agreed as Methos caught his lips again in a much surer kiss. "Saves all that time."

"Well then," Methos replied, trailing small kisses across Duncan's cheek. "I've always been a big believer in never passing up opportunities…"

"Mmm," was all the Highlander could reply as Methos wrapped his arms around his waist and nibbled on his ear. In return, he felt his way across the other Immortal's back and ran his fingers softly over the nape of his neck.

"Taking risks, all that sort of thing," he breathed in Duncan's ear. "So what say you we take this somewhere a little less, well, open?"

"Mmm," Duncan mumbled, before coming to his senses. "Oh, yes – good idea."

They ignored the pile of clothing to the edge of the room and went upstairs. And things happened there that would make any Watcher's ears blush.

Except one Adam Pierson, who was blushing in entirely different places.


End file.
